I'm your new best friend
by SkyeMoor
Summary: Draco Malfoy shows up to call in a favor Hermione Granger never knew about.
1. Stranger in a Strange Land

Draco Malfoy threw down the paper in frustration, threw an antique vase across the room (where it shattered spectacularly, sending glass cascading over the entirety of the fireplace.).

And then he stood up.

He had been patient, as a Slytherin does.

 _Now_ was the time to strike.

He shrugged himself out of his pajamas, and performed his morning ablutions. His hair was as thin and pin-straight as ever - he slicked it back with a light pomade. Then he looked at his suits, choosing one in a soft, pale blue that reminded him of his mother.

Inspecting himself in the mirror, he nodded. _It was time._

Draco Malfoy flooed to Hogsmeade, suffering the glares of patrons of the Three Broomsticks with a insouciance that he knew would feed his reputation. _But, after all, why should he care? It was always Potter concerned with reputation above all else._

Draco Malfoy walked to Hogwarts, less as punishment and more as time to organize his thoughts.

He arrived at the gates and entered, feeling the wards wash over him. He nodded, they were still as strong as ever. With luck, this would send Minerva McGonagall descending down on his head, as if she were in catform and springing down from a high shelf.

Draco walked towards the castle proper, strutting along the paths like a cat. A Slytherin is bold, when appropriate. In dealings with Gryffindors, it becomes imperative.

Minerva McGonagall did not, it would appear, have time to distract herself with a stray, _graduated_ Slytherin.

So, Malfoy entered Hogwarts unheralded - and unremarked, using a few tapestries to slide around the clusters of gossipy students. Hogwarts had zillions of places to hide, it wasn't even _difficult_.

Draco Malfoy headed unerringly to a classroom he had... inhabited for only one of his seven years of Hogwarts schooling.

 _Muggle Studies_. _Time to follow the yellow brick road._

Draco Malfoy brushed invisible lint off his suit, and then knocked crisply on the door. _Snape would be proud, he'd insisted we learn the Proper Protocols, after all._ _Not that Granger would notice._

"Come in," Granger's warm voice rang out. _Time to give a little shade to that spot of sunlight._

Draco Malfoy entered as smoothly as possible, even closing the door and getting halfway to the nearest chair to her desk before she looked up.

"Draco Malfoy!" Hermione Granger snapped out, "What's your business?"

Draco let his mouth curl into a smirk, "The one and only. I'm here to call in that favor you owe me."

Granger's eyes flicked up at him, filled with fire. He saw her one hand that wasn't holding a quill clench into a fist. "What favor? I don't owe you any favors!"

Draco Malfoy smirked, turning around, "It's nice to know my donation is being used wisely." Casually, he leaned back against Granger's desk, putting both hands on it to brace himself.

"What? You didn't- I don't believe you!" Hermione Granger nearly shrieked.

"You can check with McGonagall if you don't believe me." Draco Malfoy smirked.

"I don't believe this. YOU are the anonymous donor?" Hermione nearly flounced, rising from her desk - Draco was watching her from a mirror that had thoughtfully been put in a corner of the room (apparently to emphasize that Magic Mirrors did not exist in Mundania).

"Ask McGonagall if you don't believe me." Draco didn't need to look back to hear Hermione's frustration, it almost felt like she was simmering.

"Assuming you aren't lying your lily white ass off," Hermione started, and Draco suppressed a smirk. He'd rib her about the racial slur later. "What is this favor?"

"You've been leading the crusade against this Marriage Law, haven't you?" Draco said, and Hermione, bless her sweet soul, shut the fuck up for once. They both knew she had. "I want in."

"You want to _help_?" Hermione Granger asked, her eyes bulging out of her head, in a manner that was nearly as satisfying as her silence had been. " _Why?_ " She was asking this question because her good pals Ron and Harry had declared themselves satisfied - or at least stymied, with a delay in the law's applicability. Potter's agegroup would not be affected, would not need to marry. Younger children would be forced to marry, as young as twelve.

Draco Malfoy rolled up his sleeve, showing off the Dark Mark, "There's been enough slavery, don't you think?"

Hermione Granger seemed to pale at the Dark Mark, her hand reaching out almost unconsciously to touch it, before she seemed to remember herself.

 _Typical,_ Hermione Granger thought, _Draco Malfoy thinks he needs to employ blackmail in order to be allowed to help._ "Welcome aboard." Hermione had been there once, she reflected. Once, before Hogwarts, unsure that anyone would ever like her as a friend. Besides, she _really_ could use the help!

* * *

[One year ago:]

Draco Malfoy hadn't been sentenced to Azkaban. He'd been thrilled about that for about as long as it took the judge to get the next sentence out. Apparently they were levying enough of a fine to turn the Malfoys into paupers.

Two days later, Draco Malfoy had sat in front of two Ministry lawyers. It was supposed to be a simple meeting, but Draco Malfoy had had a brilliant idea. Now, he just needed to explain it to them.

"I'll sign over the money," Draco Malfoy said, "But I want control over where it goes."

"Mister Malfoy," said the twitchy lawyer, his thin leg jittering. "I hope you understand that we cannot allow you to send your money to a safe haven."

Draco said, with a sneer, "Obviously."

The lawyer that was built like a bull said, "And we can't let you donate to causes that will be perceived as benefiting purebloods unduly."

"Absolutely," Draco said with a firm nod.

"Well then, what did you have in mind?" The bull-like woman asked.

"I've become concerned about the state of Muggle Studies in Hogwarts. I wish to quadruple the current funding, create a titled chair for the position, with tenure, and pay for the next teacher to write her own book." Draco Malfoy said.

The lawyers blinked at him, "That... _would_ be acceptable." He could just see them trying to figure out his angle. He fought the urge to smirk, they'd never get it.

"Additionally, I wish this donation to be in perpetuity, and anonymous." Draco Malfoy said. Both lawyers stirred at the last word. Lucius Malfoy had been famous for his donations, but they'd always been showy things.

"Just sign here," the fidgety lawyer managed, after a short pause.

In the next year, Draco Malfoy would sneer at his friends, and tell them that he was sticking it to the Gryffindor - a form of final revenge, that the Gryffindor Brain couldn't find a job without depending on Malfoy Money. McGonagall, however, he told a golden lie, that he didn't want to be like his father, and he'd rather the source of the money be kept quiet... lest their be questions.

They were both lies, truth be told, because no one would believe the real reason. Draco Malfoy was utterly fascinated with the Muggle world. He'd never been, of course, his father had nearly skinned him alive when he was caught with a short, bigoted book on Muggles. And he certainly couldn't rely on the Carrows teaching.

As a Malfoy, he did what Malfoys generally did, when they had a problem. He threw money at the project. In this case, he'd strongly hinted to McGonagall that Granger would be a fine choice, at least for the first year. He'd read her potions work, more than once, and knew that she was quite capable of crafting a textbook that would prepare any pureblood to venture into the Muggle world. Even a Malfoy.

* * *

[Yesterday:]

Harry Potter was in a state, as Hermione Granger flooed over to his house. Just one look into her fire-filled eyes, and Harry wanted to sob. "It was the best I could do, Hermione," Harry pleaded. "I went up to the Minister himself."

"We have to try harder!" Hermione seethed.

Ron looked up, "I don't think it'll help, Hermione."

"I called in my last card," Harry said heavily. "I don't have anything else to play."

"You could go rogue!" Hermione said, in a flash of inspiration.

"I'd lose my job," Harry said, "And I'm not sure it would help. We've already had tons of articles in the paper. Those stupid stuck-up sods think they know what's best for everyone."

Ron said, softly, "We haven't even tried it yet..."

Hermione rounded on Ron, "It doesn't matter. They're forcing people to marry, against their will!"

Harry was left looking up at Hermione, saying softly, "We tried. We did our best."

Ron nodded along, saying, "We're with you to hell and back, but... you can't roll a boulder uphill."

Hermione suppressed a smile at Ron's use of her greek mythology book. Shakily, she nodded. "I've got work to do."

Ron and Harry suppressed a sigh of relief, that Hermione hadn't broken down crying.

[a/n: Reviews, as always, will be appreciated. As you can see, timing is everything!

And if you want this fic to continue, you will Review!]


	2. So what's the plan, Stan?

"So what's the plan, Stan?" Draco Malfoy asks, smirking happily away at Hermione Granger.

Hermione, for her part, put her hands on her hips, "Oh, no you don't, mister. You don't come in here, a day after my grand plans crash and burn, upending any newly formed half-baked ideas and ask ME what the plan is."

Draco Malfoy smirked, "For once, I've made the Great Hermione Granger speechless."

Hermione said, "Start talking and we'll work it out together. You up for some pizza?"

Draco Malfoy smirked back, "Pizza Union fine with you? My treat."

Hermione Granger blinked, seemingly set back on her heels by the fact that Supreme Bigot Malfoy not only managed to know about pizza, but had found one of the decent shops in London. Not, mind, the poshest place. "Sure. Just let me toss off these robes."

Draco Malfoy politely turned around, trying not to blush. Where he came from, tossing off robes generally led to amorous encounters. Draco had his robes folded neatly, and genteely offered Hermione Granger an arm. They side-along apparated into a stinky alley, and Hermione wrinkled her nose.

Draco said, slightly offended, "You thought I could magick up a clean alley? I don't think even Magic Alleys can rid themselves of the smell of urine."

Hermione Granger frowned, slightly, opening her mouth - before Draco started laughing. "Don't take yourself so seriously, girlfriend." _Where in the hell had Malfoy picked up all this muggle slang_ , she thought.

They emerged from the alley, and stared at Pizza Union Londontown - apparently this was something of a chain. It had the normal counterservice, with tables that were two steps above McDonald's - and booths that just screamed Red Sauce Italian.

"Come on!" Draco called, dashing in front of a herd of children being led by one tired looking woman. Hermione hurried to catch up.

Draco proceeded to display a still-adolescent appetite. "Oh, try this!" he said, pulling down a margarita, and then grabbing up a Funghi slice, and then "this is my favorite" - the one with pepperoni, and green peppers. And then he tried to put these down on her tray.

Hermione laughed, surprised at his enthusiasm, and said, "I can't eat that much!"

Draco, completely unselfconsciously said, "Then I'll give you a bite off each" Draco then darted to the end of the counter, where the Daily Special was. His eyes were big as saucers, as he looked at the feta/spinach topped pizza "Try this one! It looks delicious!"

Hermione said, with a knowing look on her face, "you just want to try a bite of it, don't you?"

Draco said, "Of course!" And smirked.

Draco paid for both Hermione and his own pizzas, which she felt much less bad about since he'd just gotten TRIPLE what a sane and normal person would have gotten. These pieces were huge, and there was plenty of crust. As they walked away from the register, Draco looked at her, and said, "Can we get a booth? Do you mind? My parents never let me sit in a booth, not _ever_."

Hermione let out a sigh, and said, "Yes, Malfoy, we can get a booth."

Draco sat in the back booth, his back to the wall, and took one bite of pizza. "Wow, this really is stupendous. How have I never tried this before?"

Hermione blinked at him. "You've never come here before?"

Draco shook his head. "Nope."

Hermione looked at him, with furrowed, skeptical brow, and said, "Then how are you so good at all of this?"

"It's called research, Granger." Malfoy said, "Can I call you Danger Granger? Or is it Granger Danger?"

[a/n: Draco's actually not brave enough to go out into the Muggle world on his own. Although, if circumstances were different, he'd just Hire A Muggleborn.

Reviews mean more story! And to the cranky reviewer who said I was being snotty and disrespectful? I consider reviews as a great way to gauge interest in a story. Goyle's Bet is an intricate tale that I've only just started, because Nobody Seemed To Really Want it. Seriously, this little stub gets four reviews in less than a day. I'm doing this one! For you, lovely readers!]


	3. So, what's your plan?

Draco Malfoy asked, in a smooth drawl, "So, what's your plan?"

Hermione Granger nearly barred her teeth at him. "What plan?"

Draco shrugged, and somehow he could make even that look elegant. "You always have a plan, don't you?"

"Two days ago," Hermione said, seething, "I had a plan. It _failed_."

Draco looked unrepentant - expressionlessly so. "You always have a plan. What's the new one?"

"Nada," Hermione said.

Draco smirked, looking smug, "Have I finally struck the Mudblood speechless?"

"Apparently," Hermione said, smirking. "Have another slice of pizza. and tell me your plan."

Draco took another slice, folding it in half to keep the cheese from dripping out of it. "What, now I'm supposed to have a plan?"

"Well, you did just waltz in and offer to help..." Hermione sniped.

Draco Malfoy set down the piece of pizza. "Plans are best when written together. But, before we can make a plan, we need intel."

Hermione tried not to blink. Draco Malfoy, purebred scion, had just used phraseology more typical of James Bond than the Sacred 28.

She blinked. "Yes, ordinarily, that would be true. However, I've been working with this problem for a while now."

Draco Malfoy smirked, leaning backwards and putting his hands behind his head, elbows out. "Oh, good. Then you can draw the diagrams."

"You haven't been keeping up with politics?" Hermione riposted.

"Trying not to, actually," Draco said, "That was my father's thing, and I wouldn't want to copy him."

"And this isn't?" Hermione said.

"Any and all alliances with a mudblood would cause my father to faint dead away out of shame and despair," Draco Malfoy said, taking a bite of pizza, "So, no. Most certainly not copying." Draco grinned at Hermione, a grin with far too many teeth in it. It still seemed more genuine than normal, and was only slightly ruined by the piece of cheese caught between his two front teeth.

"Well, since your father was in politics, I suppose you know the basics." Hermione started.

"Personal grudges, spite and misery, writ onto an entire country's legal system?" Draco Malfoy smirked, "Yeah, pretty much."

"That," Hermione started, then took a bit of pizza. "was not what I was going to say. I was going to say Traditionalists, Liberals and crazy axe-wielding grandmothers..."

Draco Malfoy cracked up laughing, "Thank Merlin for Augusta Longbottom."

"It was only the One Time," Hermione said, in a flawless impersonation of Augusta's stiff formality. She turned towards Malfoy, and asked, "Did anyone ever figure out what Gavin Parkinson did?"

Draco Malfoy shook his head, negating everything he was about to say. "I heard it involved a crup, a kiss, and a kneazle on someone's arse."

Hermione burst out in giggles. Not so much for the awkward juxtaposition, but for combining it with Gavin Parkinson and Augusta Longbottom, two notoriously genteel stuffed shirts.

[a/n: Granger and Malfoy. Get along like a house on fire. Sometimes literally.

Leave a review?]


	4. Intel

Draco Malfoy cocked his head, as if he was thinking about something ... unusual. "Do you still have blackmail on the Daily Prophet's most prized reporter?"

Hermione's jaw dropped, and she said nothing.

Draco Malfoy grinned brightly, "Ha! I win! Speechless, she is!"

His grin played to a crowd that... wasn't there. Hermione knew because she looked around, half convinced that he was about to pull a Candid Camera, except with disillusioned Slytherins. "How... how did you _know?_ We didn't tell anyone!"

Draco Malfoy's eyes sparkled - sharp like diamonds, not a warm twinkle like Dumbledore's, "Now, that," He said, eating another bite of pizza, "Was something I didn't know." With a warm smile, he continued, "You were too personal in your dictums."

"Personal?" Hermione bristled.

"Potter, Weasley, Yourself," Malfoy said complacently, and Hermione subsided. "If I were you, I'd have put more people on the list - at least Dumbledore." Malfoy eyed her with a knowing look, "You know Potter would have added Dumbledore."

Hermione, still quite bristly, asked, "How did you _know_?"

"As you suspected, I had been feeding scurrilous lies to her." Malfoy said calmly.

"You admit it!" Hermione said, grinning. "You actually admit it!"

Malfoy yawned, "Slytherins tend to be quite proud of their plots, and this one's been over for _simply ages_."

Hermione smiled, lacing her fingers together as she watched him.

"I tried to pay her fifty galleons to publish something... moderately offensive." Draco Malfoy said. "When she didn't bite, I knew she'd been bought."

"Bought?" Hermione said, "I'd _never_ -"

"I know," Draco said, "I know. And I eventually realized that."

"As it so happens, I do still have the same information, and it has the same usefulness."

Draco Malfoy smiled like a fox, "Then I suggest we begin our charm offensive with Rita Skeeter."

"What? Why?" Hermione asked, too intrigued to sound properly cross.

"She's the best writer in the business, even more so when she's not embroidering everything with false controversy." Draco said, "We need her on our side. Willingly, this time."

"She _hates_ me," Hermione said. "How is this going to work?"

"I'll handle it." Draco Malfoy said complacently, "Those lessons in negotiating have to have some benefit you know."

Hermione looked at him, and Draco Malfoy had the creeping feeling that she'd be taking notes.

[a/n: Thank you so much for the reviews! Draco's definitely of the opinion that Hermione drinks white vinegar without wincing. He's more about honey, himself.]


	5. Rita Skeeter

Draco Malfoy had sent Hermione Granger a note. It simply said to be at the Three Broomsticks, and to sit in the booth in the back. Hermione Granger couldn't help but grin. Either he knew her well enough to know that she'd take the back corner, or he figured she'd be smart enough to do it without prompting. It wasn't like Harry or Ron were... punctilious enough to specify - but Hermione would have. She hated when her plans went sideways because of someone else's stupidity.

Draco Malfoy showed up three minutes later than Hermione did. As she'd been perfectly on time, she did think he wanted to sit on the outside of the booth. And so this was the case. Draco sat down beside her, and ordered three butterbeers. Madame Rosmerta took one look at the two of them and smiled, cautiously. "Keep an eye on him for me, will ya?" she asked Hermione.

"Of course," Hermione responded, smiling thinly.

"She can't actually expect me to want to poison someone, can she?" Draco Malfoy asked, and Hermione could see his nonchalant affect start to waver.

Fortunately, she knew the answer to that one. "One learns not to expect anything from Slytherins, seeing as they're capable of anything and everything." She said it in her most arch voice, attempting to imitate Narcissa Malfoy, and only at the end wished for some tea to sip demurely.

"Your vote of confidence does my house much good, unnecessary though it may be." Draco Malfoy said.

The butterbeers arrived, and Rita Skeeter tottled in the door, in those enormously high heels and dragon lady makeup - red lipstick, black mascara, and blood red nailpolish. "Draco, my dear!" She squealed, dashing over to them. Her face nearly froze when she saw Hermione, though. Then her eyes started flicking back and forth between both of them. "Business associates?" She asked, taking a calm seat, and donning her composure like a shield.

"Quite," Draco Malfoy said, and Hermione was glad to let him talk.

Rita started to pull out a quick quotes quill, and Draco put his hand on top of hers, "No, I don't think that will be necessary." he said in a low voice that held a surprising amount of strength.

"Why did you call me here, then?" Rita advanced, a slight crinkle in her eyebrows the only sign that she was puzzled.

"I wanted a meeting off the books, off the record," Draco Malfoy said firmly.

"Funny place for that," Rita said, smiling widely. "Rosmerta loves to gossip."

"You'd know," Hermione said quietly, and Rita's eyes flicked over at her for just a quick second.

Draco continued, as if neither of them had interrupted, "I hope we can come to an arrangement, one that will be lucrative for you."

Rita looked over at Hermione, and, as if she hadn't a care in the world, "I like the sound of this one. Why couldn't you have been paired with this charming young gentleman, rather than those two lunkheads you've mistaken for friends?"

Hermione only barely bit back words to the effect of Rita's venom was not confined to the written word.

Draco's mouth thinned into a semblance of a smile - he was always going to like someone insulting the Golden Trio, wasn't he? "They do say carrots get more compliance than sticks."

Hermione said, lightly, "Of course, we do still have the stick. In case of ... irregularities."

Without looking at Hermione, Rita smiled. "Tell me more about this proposal of yours."

"We intend to make the news worth reading again," Draco Malfoy said, "Without those exaggerations you are so very fond of."

Rita leaned forward, and said, "What are you planning to do?"

Draco Malfoy said, "All in good time. I've long maintained that your writing shines best when you aren't exaggerating, of course."

Hermione said, "What we need is fair journalism, coverage that's not twisted and not exaggerated."

Draco Malfoy continued, "But is to our benefit."

Rita frowned, "What's in it for me?"

Draco, "If fame isn't enough by itself, allow us to contribute to your fortune. We'll read and review every article before you take it to print, and in return, you will be adequately compensated for your time."

Rita nodded, "This does seem reasonable. You don't want an exclusive contract?"

Draco shook his head, "That would be unfair to you, though I will ask that any work you do that mentions either of us, is something we can vet before it hits the papers."

Rita smiled, happily. "You have yourself a third partner then. What are we doing?"

Hermione Granger smiled, a very toothy smile, "Ending the practice of slavery in Great Britain before it begins."

Rita whistled, lowly, "You don't think small, either of you... I'm very glad you came to me first."

Draco Malfoy said, "You do have the best reputation in Great Britain." Hermione muttered something that was undoubtedly uncomplimentary to someone, and thus not worth listening to.

The meeting broke up shortly.

[a/n: Leave a review?]


	6. Hawk's Eye

Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, and Rita Skeeter walked into the Wizarding Parliments' gallery.

They did so separately of course. Draco Malfoy sat on the right, Hermione Granger sat on the left, and Rita Skeeter sat in the middle.* They all came equipped with pen and ink, to jot down observations.

This was a normal meeting, in so far as any Parlimentary body ever had a normal meeting. The subjects up for discussion were cauldron bottoms and the efficacy of love potions - in particular, whether the Weasley Wheezes ones ought to be banned. These were close enough to things that Malfoy and Granger respectively might be interested in, that they would excuse the perspicacity of their attendance. At least until someone caught on, which would hopefully be a while.

Rita Skeeter attended every Parlimentary session, and so she sat where she always did, jotting lurid tales down on one sheet, while her other hand recorded pertinent observations.

* * *

They reconvened in a private room that Malfoy had rented, upstairs in the Hog's Head. Hermione, of course, had rented a second, and Rita had rented a third. It was no skin off Aberforth's nose if they met in one room, but going up to the _same_ room would cause _talk_. Hermione had thought that Draco was going to turn as red as Ron when she'd asked about why they couldn't all just go up to one room. Rita, giggling like a schoolgirl, had attempted, in a quaintly Victorian way, to explain what a threesome was.

The conversation spun sideways from where Hermione had originally thought it would go. She'd wanted to count Arthur Weasley in her court - as he'd been the last time she'd suggested this. Malfoy had several points to counter this, including that Arthur had originally spoken in favor of population expansion. It was Rita, surprisingly, who make the obvious joke about the fecundity of his wife, and her constantly expanding waistline. Hermione had been so surprised to hear Rita tell the joke that she'd broken out in gales of wild laughter. Perhaps taking this as assent, Malfoy had joined her in laughter. Hermione had not taken this well, her sparkling eyes hid behind a wand as she commanded, "Stop! You can't laugh at them!"

Malfoy hid behind a veneer of snobbishness that was millimeters thick, "And why not? You just did, after all."

"That's different! I like them, they're friends. you're allowed to laugh at friends!" Hermione said.

Rita snuck in, "My dear, I laugh at everyone, friend or not."

Draco, however, wasn't done, "If I kiss the hand of Madame Weasley, may I tell her that joke myself?" And then he tried to turn innocent puppy dog eyes on Hermione, who was much too busy laughing to see.

*Yes. Historically significant. Hermione Granger, everyone. Easily amused by historical references, me too.

[a/n: Reviews, as always, get you more story. Do you like politics? As to the person who was wondering if this Dramione? I ask for a bit of patience before I even answer that question.]


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